The wretch leered fearfully at him, and, with a shrill, mocking laugh, glided still nearer.
“Do you think I fear you?” he asked, “or that I have come here unprepared to defend myself! Look!”
The squire drew a long, slender dagger from his bosom as he spoke, and held it up before the face of his victim.
“This beautiful little instrument,” he said, lightly feeling its edge with one long, bony finger, “is poisoned, and one scratch would send you to your long-lost and lovely bride—she who ought to have been mine, and whom you stole from me, curses on you!”
His deepest passions began to be stirred, as they always were when his mind reverted to the fancied wrongs of long ago.
“But,” he continued, “my revenge will soon be complete, for I am going to stab you to the heart with this, and then watch you while you die. Oh, it will be a feast to my eyes, a joy to my soul! No, no—better not try that,” he said, as Ellerton made a motion as if to seize the weapon from his hand. “Remember, the merest trick will prove fatal and cause you tenfold more suffering. Better take it quietly to your heart at once and have it over with; you will meet Jessie then all the sooner.”
“Oh, heavens, what a monster!” moaned the wretched man.
His heart sickened within him as he realized his horrible situation.
The fiend bent near to him; he could feel his hot breath against his cheek, see the pupil of his eye dilate and then contract with the deadly purpose of his heart shining through them.
The squire raised his arm high above his head, while his long, bony fingers firmly clutched the handle of the dagger. For a moment it quivered in the air, then it descended toward his foe with full force.